


Tumblr Snippets

by SemperAeternumQue



Category: Keeper of the Lost Cities Series - Shannon Messenger
Genre: Angst, F/M, Ficlets, Gen, I apologize in advance, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Lots of Angst, No beta we die like Kenric, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Panic Attacks, Past Abuse, Pyren Brothers AU, Tumblr Prompt, my friend converted me to liking emery and it shows, please heed the warnings and stay safe, semp's continual mission to fill AO3 with pyren bros content, seriously I cannot emphasize how not fluffy most of this is, there are a few happier pieces but what did you expect with me
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-09
Updated: 2020-05-22
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:40:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 3,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24087508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SemperAeternumQue/pseuds/SemperAeternumQue
Summary: Here's where I'll be putting all of my Keeper of the Lost Cities snippets that I write on Tumblr! Mostly angst, but I've got a few fluffy or sweet ones in there too, I promise. I'll also mostly be writing about side characters because I love them and we all need more Council content in our lives, right?
Relationships: Councillor Bronte & Fintan Pyren, Councillor Kenric/Councillor Oralie (Keeper of the Lost Cities)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 20





	1. Home

**Author's Note:**

> Gooood evening folks, welcome to prompts hour with Semp, fueled by a lot of sleep-deprivation and the desire to break hearts. Not all of these are painful but a lot of them are, be warned! Please heed any warnings in the chapter notes, I'll be putting trigger warnings there just in case. Stay safe and take care of yourselves!
> 
> This first chapter, major tw for a panic attack and implied past abuse. The prompt was "I've got you, you're safe."

_Fintan couldn’t breathe, the memories swarming him, pulling him in, filling his head with fear and pain and horror. No- no-_

_“Help,” he cried, but no one could hear him, no one came running._

_More pain, more fear- where was his brother- Fintan crumpled to the ground, trying to breathe, trying to survive. He had to get out he had to be free- He couldn’t stop himself from lashing out as a figure knelt beside him._

_“Fintan!” The voice was familiar as the person winced back. “Fintan, it’s just me.”_

_Fintan’s chest loosened slightly as he recognized the voice. “Bronte-”_

_“I’m here, I’m here,” his brother soothed as Fintan leaned into his embrace, trying to remember how to breathe._

_“I was back there- I- our parents-”_

_“I know. I know. You’re okay. You’re here with me, not there.”_

_Fintan fought to stop shaking and failed. “I can’t- I can’t breathe.”_

_“You’re going to be okay,” Bronte promised. “I’ve got you, you’re safe.”_

_Slowly, Fintan’s breathing calmed as Bronte held him tightly. Here. Safe. He was here. He was safe._

_As his heart slowed and his vision grew less blurry, Bronte seemed to grow fainter, more blurry._

_“Bronte, what’s happening-”_

Bronte just smiled as he vanished entirely and Fintan sat up in bed, gasping.

“Bronte!”

No one answered his cry, and he looked around the darkened room. A familiar nightstand, but not the one he had been accustomed to seeing in Eternalia. His desk, covered not in Council paperwork but Neverseen plans. The room was smaller, too, darker, than his had been in his castle. 

_A dream, it was all a dream._

Fintan clenched his fists as he stared around the room, its usually comforting darkness only increasing the swirling mess of emotions raging around his head. Despite his best efforts, he couldn’t keep flames from sparking into being around him, a firestorm consuming him and his bed as he let out a small cry. 

_How dare he end up in my dreams? How dare my subconscious remind me of the only person with any power to hurt me any longer?_

_HOW. DARE. IT._

The flames licked higher, consuming everything in their path until his anger had run its course, and only then did Fintan bury his head in his hands and cry.

It was hardly a whisper, only for himself, but he spoke the words into the world:

“I want to go home.”


	2. Scar (the first)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning for implied abuse! Other than that, nothing. Thea is one of my ocs, a pyrokinetic and Fintan's friend. This chapter is one of two written off the same prompt, since I really enjoyed it.
> 
> Prompt: "This scar...what happened?"

The two elves sat in the library, ostensibly doing research into the history of solar flames for a project they were working on, in reality talking about their lives. The conversation flowed easily from topic to topic, their years of friendship showing through.

Their smooth conversation came to a halt briefly as Thea traced a small line across Fintan’s arm. “This scar... what happened?”

Fintan pushed away a small cyclone of memories that arose from those words. “Nothing.”

“You don’t have to tell me,” Thea said, looking almost hurt. “I was just curious,” she added more brightly.

Fintan fought to keep any more of those memories from creeping through. “I...didn’t have a happy childhood.”

“Oh.” His usually bright and smiling researcher friend seemed almost lost for words as she gave his hand a comforting squeeze. “I...suspected something was wrong. When you said you had to move in with our shared mentor. But I figured it was rude to ask.”

“Yeah. I don’t really talk about it much.” He offered a pained smile as Thea looked up to meet his eyes.

“Fintan, I hope you know I’m with you no matter what. You can tell me things, just because I’m always bright and happy doesn’t mean I can’t take things seriously.”

His words seemed to stick in his throat. “I-” _I can’t believe how lucky I am to have you as a friend, I can never express how thankful I am that you don’t just abandon the mess that I am._

She seemed to understand what he was trying to say. “You’re my friend. I want to support you.”

“I- thank you.”

“Of course.” 


	3. Scar (the second

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No major warnings for this chapter, this one actually is pretty nice.
> 
> Second of the scar snippets!
> 
> Prompt: "This scar...what happened?" (I didn't stick to it very exactly for this one, but it was still inspired by it.)

It was an atypically warm day in Eternalia, warm enough that the Council had mostly given up on working (or, pretending to work, since none of them had been getting much done) for the afternoon.

“It’s too hot to get anything done,” Kenric had declared, and that had been enough to get even Bronte and Emery to set down their paperwork. The heat was getting to all of them, not to mention the humidity. Even Oralie’s curls were drooping.

So now the Council had split off to varying places, and Oralie and Kenric had managed to drag Bronte with them to go sit at a cute little coffee shop in Eternalia, where, unsurprisingly, most people were currently drinking iced coffee or tea. It hadn’t been hard to get a table, although there were still a few people staring at them as they drank their coffee. It came with being a Councillor.

_Has Bronte always had that scar?_

Oralie almost jumped in her seat as Kenric’s voice sounded in her head. _Which one?_

_The one on his face. Right across his cheekbone._

_I think so. I’ve never been bold enough to ask where it came from._ She turned to survey the scar, a small white line across the right side of his face. It had been present for a long as she had known Bronte, but she had never really looked at it properly before. It was worryingly long, actually.

“Hey bro,” Kenric started.

“I thought I told you not to call me that.”

“Sorry, Councillor Grumpypants. Anyways, have you always had that scar?”

“Which one?” Bronte asked, just like Oralie had. Now that she looked closer, he also had a scar on his collarbone, and a few marking up his arms.

“That one on your face. You don’t have to answer!” He added quickly. “Just curious.”

“I got it when we were fighting a band of rebel ogres as a young Emissary, so yes. I’ve had it about five thousand years.” 

It was easy to forget just how old Bronte was, Oralie reflected. He talked about five millennia so casually, as if that wasn’t a truly ridiculous amount of time.

Kenric whistled. “Wow. What about that one?”

Bronte’s hand went up to rub the one on his collarbone. “I’ve have that one since I was thirteen.” He didn’t offer up any more information, and Oralie silently willed Kenric not to ask. Thankfully, he dropped the topic and moved onto the next, and that was the end of all talk of scars.


	4. The Person You Want

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only warning for this one is referenced character death!
> 
> Prompt: "I know I'm not the person you want, but I'm here."

“Oralie.”

She doesn’t want to open her eyes.

“Oralie.”

Why won’t he just leave her alone?

“Oralie, please.” Bronte’s voice sounds dangerously close to breaking, and that’s what finally gets her to respond.

“Leave me alone.” Her eyes are still screwed shut.

“No.” His voice is kind but firm. “I’m not letting you waste away. You need to keep going, and you _have_ support. You have people who care. I know I’m not the person you want, but I’m here. Please, _let me help_.”

“You need to take care of yourself,” she whispers, but she doesn’t have the energy to fight him on this, not once she opens her eyes and sees the concern, the fear and the grief written across his face. Bronte is unreadable to some, but to his friends, he will always be an open book.

“I need you to be okay as much as I need to be okay.”

“You lost your brother.”

“You lost your Kenric.”

Oralie sighs quietly. “I don’t know how to keep going.”

“Do any of us, really? We just have to get up and keep trying. Just stay alive. That’s all you have to do,” Bronte promises.

“I...can do that. If you keep fighting too.”

“I’m too stubborn to give up now.”

She can’t laugh, but she does manage an awfully small smile. “I’m glad.”

“Me too.” He offers a hand up, and she takes it.

Together. They will face the world together. 

What would be impossible alone isn’t so awful with a friend.


	5. I Choose You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No major warnings! And it's not even too bad!
> 
> Prompt: "You're worth more than this."

“You’re worth more than this.”

“What do you mean?” 

Kenric wouldn’t meet her eyes. “You deserve better.”

“Better than what?” Oralie demanded.

“Better than...this mess. You deserve someone who’s not falling apart at the seams, someone worthy of all your love. You deserve someone who can be there for you, be enough.”

“But I want _you_.” It sounded childish, but- “I don’t want someone perfectly whole. I want you, all the rough edges and broken pieces included. You _are_ enough.”

“We can’t-”

“We can hide.”

Kenric sighed softly. “I don’t want you to have to hide.”

“I would have to hide my love no matter who I chose to love, but I choose to love anyways. I choose _you_.”

“I- Okay.” His eyes held a sort of desperate hope as Oralie gave him a soft smile. 

“So?”

“I choose you as well. Even if we have to keep our love a secret.” His voice didn’t waver, even though the step they were taking was huge.

“Always?”

“Always."


	6. Tonight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No warnings again apart from Bronte's general fucked-up-ness and a brief mention of having a difficult time distinguishing dreams and reality.
> 
> Prompt: "You can stay with me tonight."

It was about two in the morning when Emery heard a knock on his door. The two am part wasn’t so unusual, he was often up at this hour of night, but hearing a knock on his door was unusual, given that most sane people were asleep. Emery did count himself amongst ‘sane people’, but he was part of the small portion that was regularly up at two am. Which he supposed made his sanity a little more dubious. Then again, he had more sanity than most of the rest of the Council.

Regardless of the state of Emery’s sanity, he made his way down the stairs to answer the door. What was even more surprising than a knock on his door in the middle of the night turned out to be the fact that the knocker was Bronte, his colleague who generally disagreed with him on most issues. 

Emery supposed this night couldn’t get much weirder, so he just glanced down at the other. “Good morning. Evening? Night? It’s technically morning, anyways.”

“Good morning,” Bronte muttered, staring at the ground.

“Am I to get an explanation as to why you’re on my doorstep at two am?”

The other Councillor continued to stare at the ground. “I..couldn’t exactly sleep. And Oralie is asleep like a sensible person. Trust me, I wouldn’t have come to your doorstep except as a last resort.”

Emery tried not to take that personally. “Well, come in, I suppose. It’s not like I was sleeping anyways.”

Bronte stepped inside. “Are you always up at two am?”

“Usually, yes.”

He didn’t ask why, instead sitting silently on Emery’s sofa. Emery flailed for words for a few moments, the late hour and unexpected events robbing him of his usual eloquence. 

“Uh...do you need anything?” He asked finally.

“Just to not be alone,” Bronte muttered. He didn’t look exactly pleased to need companionship, so Emery didn’t press the matter. 

“Well, you can stay with me tonight. I had no intention of going to sleep in the next few hours anyways.”

“Thanks.”

There were a few minutes of awkward silence.

“You aren’t in any of my nightmares,” Bronte said finally. “It’s easier to remember what’s real with other people around.”

Emery found the first statement strange, but he let it slide. “You’re welcome to crash here for the night.”

“I don’t think you’ll really appreciate it if I do.”

“Why not?”

Bronte didn’t seem to want to answer that, and Emery sighed and let it drop, turning the conversation to easier topics. “We’ve got that meeting with the goblin queen tomorrow, do you think we’re prepared?”

“About as prepared as possible.”

“That’s good, we’ve got to make that one quick. We’ve got a lot to do tomorrow.”

“Tell me about it.”

It was easier to commiserate about Councillor duties than confront any serious topic, so that was what they did until the sun peeked over the horizon to illuminate Eternalia and it was time for another full day.


	7. Trust

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning only for Fintan's guilt.
> 
> Prompt: "I trust you with my life."
> 
> This is the last one for tonight, I promise!

“Fintan!” Bronte called.

“Leave me alone!” Fintan shouted back.

“I’m not leaving you alone until I know you’re okay!”

“Then you’ll be here a very long time!”

Bronte winced. “Please, at least let me come inside?”

“No.” His brother crossed his arms from where he was perched in the window above Bronte’s head, the petulant gesture reminding Bronte of their younger days.

“Why?” If Fintan could be petty, so could he.

“I- Bronte, I _killed my friends_. They died because of my experiments. My fire.”

Bronte’s heart twisted. “It’s not your fault. You were doing you best-”

“You warned me!” Fintan cried. “You told me it would end badly! And I didn’t listen and I kept going anyways and-” his voice broke. “and they died.”

“That was _not your fault_. Please- please don’t let this break you.”

Fintan must have heard the fear in his voice. “I’m not going to break over this. But I’m not safe to be around.”

“You _are_.”

“I can hurt you.”

“And I could hurt you, but I would never and I know you won’t hurt me.” He tried to put all his confidence in those words, knowing Fintan would _never_ hurt him.

“But what if I do?” Fintan’s voice shook a little, with fear or sorrow or both, Bronte couldn’t tell.

He looked straight up to meet his brother’s gaze, willing Fintan to believe him. “Fintan, I trust you with my life.”

“I don’t.”

Fintan hopped off the windowsill and slammed the window shut, leaving Bronte to stand helplessly in front of the castle.


	8. Tomorrow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another one dealing with the aftermath of Kenric's death; tw for slight suicidal ideation and referenced character death, general warning for depressing-ness.
> 
> Prompt: "Please, just hold on a little longer. I can’t lose you too."

“It doesn’t seem like there’s a way to go on.” 

The words cut at Oralie’s heart as she takes in the pain on the face of her oldest friend. “We’ll find one.”

“How?” Bronte demands. “How do you go on when the person you used to live for is gone?”

“I-” There’s nothing she can possibly say to that.

“Fintan was the better brother. Brighter and fiercer and stronger. I was always his shadow, always there to look after him.”

“Fintan killed my- Kenric!” She regrets the words as soon as they leave her mouth, but they’re true and Bronte’s shoulders slump in acknowledgement. 

“I don’t know how to reconcile the elf who killed Kenric and the elf who I used to know,” he admits quietly. “I don’t know how to reconcile a murderer with the Fintan who laughed at the silliest things and draped himself over furniture and asked the most inane questions.”

“I’m sorry,” Oralie whispers.

“It’s not your fault. It’s never been your fault. But I don’t know how to live without him to look after.” His face is unreadable, but his eyes are filled with sorrow.

Maybe it makes her selfish, but- “Please, just hold on a little longer. I can’t lose you too. I _can’t_.” Her voice breaks on the last word, dangerously close to begging.

He looks away. “I’ll try.” 

“Trying isn’t good enough!” She snaps. “I need to know- I need to know I’m not going to lose you, that you’re going to be here by my side because I cannot lose my best friend!”

Bronte sighs, still unwilling to look her in the eye. “I can’t promise forever.”

“Can you promise tomorrow? Can you promise you’ll be there in the morning?”

He hesitates for a moment, but eventually he says, “I can promise tomorrow.”

Oralie scans his face and sees a mixture of grief and hopelessness, tempered by fierce determination. And nothing but honesty. “Don’t think past tomorrow- I know it’s our job to think past tomorrow, but we today we just need to make it to tomorrow. And then do that again.”

Bronte gives her a sharp nod. “Tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow.”


	9. Today

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An oc chapter this time, complete with lots of headcanons and mild angst! Plus, gay panic! Only warning is for some depressing thoughts. 
> 
> Prompt was “I’m not afraid to die, just wish I could live a little first.” and here's a note about the ocs:
> 
> I tried really hard to make this work with other characters, but I eventually gave up and wrote a thing for my oc Alera who I haven’t properly introduced yet- she’s one of the three og councillors and a pyrokinetic and will kick your ass. Also, a lesbian. She’s the youngest of the original councillors, my other oc Oma is the oldest.
> 
> A little context is required for this snippet: it’s before the final battle of a war against a faction of ogres and trolls who the first Council was formed to combat. Hadrea is a captain in the elves’ army and Alera’s love interest (but like, in secret, because y’know Councillor. Also they’re both repressed gays.)

“Are you okay?”

Alera didn’t have to turn to know who it was, but she turned anyways, smiling faintly as she spotted Hadrea there. _Only because she’s your friend. Friend only. And a good warrior. That’s all,_ she told herself. “About as okay as possible.”

“Nervous?”

“A little. I mean, who wouldn’t be?”

Hadrea nodded understandingly. “This is it, isn’t it? This is the last battle. Everything is resting on this one.”

Alera turned back to survey the battlefield. She couldn’t see much in the pre-dawn light, but that didn’t stop her from checking the setup once again. “This is it. If we lose now, it’s over. And if we win and win decisively, we’ll come out victorious.”

“There’s a lot resting on tomorrow,” Hadrea murmured.

“There is.”

“Do you think we _will_ win?”

Alera fiddled with her armor, glancing back over at Hadrea. “I don’t know.” She knew she should say yes, should be the strong leader she always had to, but she couldn’t lie to Hadrea.

“I think we will,” the other said softly.

“Why?”

“Because we have you.”

Alera had to look away again, trying not to blush as a few little flames flickered across her armor, entirely out of her control. Damn her foolish heart and damn the power that showed it so easily! “I’m not really-”

“I mean it, Alera- I mean, Councillor Alera. You’re the best leader we have.”

“I’m not as clever as Fallon or as experienced as Oma.”

“No, but you’re braver than both of them combined. Oma and Fallon might be good at strategy, but you have _courage_. You’re inspiring. People are willing to follow you, because you seem like you really care.”

Her breath caught. “I do care.” _Maybe too much_.

“It shows. You don’t- sometimes it doesn’t seem like you’re afraid of death. Or anything at all.”

How did you tell your friend how long you had been living for other people? “There are more important things than avoiding death.”

“Like what?”

“Like leading well.”

“You’re already doing a great job at that.”

“I hope so.” She adjusted her armor again, staring across the battlefield. “Are you afraid of death, Hadrea?”

Her captain shook her head firmly. “I’m not afraid to die, I just wish I could live a little first.”

“You’re not going to die. Not if I have anything to say about it.”

Hadrea let out a small laugh. “I don’t know how much power you have over that, but I hope I can keep living.”

“I...” Alera sighed. “I can’t promise you won’t die. I can’t promise I won’t die. But I can promise that it will be okay in the end.”

“Okay in the end is good enough for me.”

The sun was beginning to peek over the horizon and they had to make their way back to the camp so Alera could rally the elves one last time, make one final push. _It’ll be over today, one way or another._


End file.
